


Just sad

by tokyoangel1000



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, John Is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Sad Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokyoangel1000/pseuds/tokyoangel1000
Summary: Tonight, Sherlock feels sad.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in the middle of the night after experiencing the same things Sherlock experience in this story. Unfortunately, I don't have a John Watson to make it all better, but writing this helped me vent a bit. I hope you all enjoy it!

Tonight, Sherlock feels sad.

Nothing special had happened that day which brought it on, it had just jumped on him out of nowhere. He and John had finished a big case that day, and had celebrated with take-out and John's favourite James bond film (which Sherlock made a point to hate, of course) while sitting arm to arm on the sofa. It had been a good evening. And yet, while getting ready for bed in his bedroom with John in the shower right next to it, Sherlock's heart gave a painful squeeze inside of his chest. And before he knew it, the tears wouldn't stop falling.

His eyes were stinging and his head was pounding to the beat of his heart. His chest felt painfully tight, as if someone had gotten hold of his lungs and was crushing them with strong and vicious hands. The tears kept on falling. His breathing sped up, becoming fast and erratic outside of his control. He slapped a hand over his mouth to try and stop the noises he had begun to make without realising it, small noises of an internal pain that he had no idea he was carrying. A sudden urge to scream overcame him, urging him to get rid of the tight feeling in his chest. Just the thought of screaming and throwing the nearest object at a wall felt so inviting, but he held it back. The tears still refused to stop falling.

Every sad moment, every harsh word, every error he had made and every doubt he had in his mind began to clot together until they formed a black hole of grief and anxiety in his mind. Every good thing in his life was pushed aside to make way for every negative aspect, until nothing good remained for him to hold on to. The vortex of thoughts trapped him inside, eating away at him until he could bear it no longer. And even then, it continued.

His mind was in conflict, one side arguing with the other and creating a storm of noise and turmoil inside his head. One side kept on telling him to call out for John, was hoping for John to hear something and take notice. John was safe. John meant comfort and warmth. John could make it all better. But the other side of his mind pushed the thought aside. John shouldn't need to be bothered with Sherlock's problems, especially when there was no real problem to begin with. It would be shameful to let John see him like this. He had taken care of himself for so long, there was no need to begin relying on John now.

The choice was ultimately taken away from him when the bedroom door opened and John stepped inside, only showing shock on his face for a moment before going to Sherlock's side and steering him over to their bed. And in the safety of his lover's arms Sherlock allowed himself to untangle his thoughts, telling John everything whether it seemed important or not. Words spilled out quicker than the tears, and by the time he was done he was also exhausted. And John just listened, because that's what he does best.

Comforting and listening.

  
At the end of it all, John looked down at Sherlock's face and asked; "Just sad?"

  
And Sherlock gave a small nod and replied; "Just sad."

  
So John held Sherlock and told him how this would pass, and that in the morning they could go over the more important things and that what was really important now was that Sherlock understood that John loved him more than anything in the world and would always be there for him.

 

And so, Sherlock slept. Everything could wait until morning after all.


End file.
